A/N: Remember, Will and Liam are the same person - William Marshall Mann goes by 'Liam' to his peers and the adults, including his parents, call him Will. I don't own any of the original IPS characters but Will, Julia, Rosa, and Skye are all mine!

"She wants to meet here."

"Is that a problem?"

Mary tossed her cell onto the bed and frowned. "No – it's just –"

"Come here." Marshall set his book on the bedside table and held out his hand.

She ignored him and began to pace back and forth at the end of the bed. "Something's off with this whole sister appearing out of the blue thing – I can feel it."

Marshall leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms. "You think she's lying?"

She snorted. "Definitely."

"About being James' daughter?"

Mary paused mid-step and considered the question before shaking her head. "No. I mean how would she know his name – and mine too? I think she's telling the truth about that – but she's definitely hiding something."

He tried not to smile. "Mary, Skye's barely told us anything – that's why you need to meet with her, remember? To find out why she's come to find you?"

"I know – but –" she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "I can't shake the feeling that I'm not going to like what she has to say-"

Marshall leapt off the bed and crossed the floor to stand in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Try to look at it in a positive light – maybe talking to Skye will provide answers to the last missing hours of your memory."

"How can she do that? She must have been a little girl when I went to see my father – and I don't remember seeing her-"

He held up a finger. "Ah, but you don't remember seeing your father either-"

"Except in my dreams," Mary muttered under her breath.

"Which you and I both know are probably flashbacks of that day."

She grunted.

"Look, we're not going to get answers about why Skye is here until tomorrow and there's no point in speculation. So why don't we spend our time more productively?"

"I'm not in the mood, String Bean."

"I wasn't talking about that but ouch, what a way to deflate my ego-"

She leaned in and kissed him long and slowly, before pulling away. "I'm sorry – I don't mean to be such a bitch – what did you have in mind?"

"I left your pregnancy tests on the counter in the bathroom-"

"Seriously? You want to do it now? I made an appointment with my doctor for the day after tomorrow for blood tests. We both know that those are way more conclusive."

He lifted a hand and brushed some hair off her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"Curious, anxious, nauseous, terrified – pick one or all of the above."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and was secretly relieved when she melted into him. "It's going to be all right."

Her right eyebrow arched. "That's what you said last time-"

"And I was right."

"Until it wasn't."

His lips covered hers and she melted further into him, as if she was drawing strength from his body. When air became necessary, he pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers.

"Go take the tests, Mer. It will give us a couple days head start to know what we're dealing with-"

"And if the results are negative?"

"I think we'll still have a few things to talk about."

Liam killed the engine of his motor bike, engaged the kick stand, and removed his helmet before he turned to grin at Julia. She removed his spare helmet, tossed her hair to air it out, and gave him a cheeky smile in response, before leaning in and pecking him on the lips.

"What was that for?"

She shrugged. "You earned it – I'm so proud of you, babe. For going to therapy with your parents and talking about the hard stuff. Your face no longer looks like it's been carved out of granite!"

"Hey!"

She laughed as she swung off the bike and he followed, wrapping his arms around her from behind as they crab-walked up her sidewalk. She turned in his embrace, kissed him, and then took his hand, leading him around the side of the house to sit on the small stone bench in the backyard.

"But, tell me honestly – don't you feel better? Lighter?" she asked, snuggling into his side.

"Yes and no."

She pulled away to look in his eyes. "Liam – what's wrong? I thought – you did work things out with them?"

He didn't meet her eyes as he stared out over her backyard. "For the most part, yes. I understand their reasons for doing what they did, and I know they love me – but it's going to take time, you know? I can't –" he swallowed. "It's been years, Jules. I've been this lost little boy looking for his mother and I confess that part of me did think it was going to be like a Disney movie that once I found her – everything would wrap up in a neat little bow."

Julia reached over and took his hand in both of hers. "That's not real life, Liam."

He snorted. "Oh, I know. Instead, I found a woman who didn't remember her marriage and so she'd had lots of relationships with men and was currently engaged. And to top it all off, she did know about me – but she thought her child was the product of a one-night stand or-" he choked with emotion on the rest of the sentence.

Julia removed one of her hands and placed it on his back. "Or what?"

"Or rape. She thought she'd been raped."

Julia gasped, the blood draining from her face. "Oh my God, Mary honestly thought-" she paused and waited for Liam to nod before she continued. "Well, no wonder she never looked for you! She was convinced that she'd experienced a terrible trauma and she must have decided to let you go and move on with her life-"

Liam swung his head in her direction and for the first time he locked eyes with her. "Is that what you would have done? You're the same age as my mother was at the time. Would you have just – walked away?"

She reared back as if he had slapped her. "I – I don't know. I can't imagine going through what your mother did – the strength it must have taken – Liam – you have to remember, she didn't know about you and your dad, not really. That part of her memory was gone."

"I know – I just – part of me is still hurt and angry – even though I know she isn't completely responsible for her actions."

"Talk to her, Liam. The only way you are going to work through all this, heal and move on, is to talk to her. Like you said, you've been looking for her for years. This can still end like a Disney movie because you're not at the end yet – you're still in the middle of the film where all the drama is happening."

"Except I'm running out of time. I leave for Harvard in two weeks."

"Then make every moment with your mom count. Remember, it's about the quality, not quantity."

Liam pulled Julia into his arms. "I do love you, Jules. I can't believe we're going to be saying good-bye soon too."

"Hey, Juilliard is only four hours away from Cambridge – the perfect road trip for long weekends. We'll make it work."

"I have something for you – that is – if we're going to try the whole long-distance thing." Liam reached into his leather jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

Julia went pale again. "Oh, Liam. Don't you think it's a bit soon for us-"

He shook his head as he popped the lid and she stared at a silver ring with her birthstone, the amethyst, set in the middle. "I agree it's too soon for the big question – Right now, I'd like to give you this ring as a symbol of my love and to promise to be true to you while we're apart." He lifted the ring and held it in front of her eyes. "And one day, Jules, I do intend to ask you to be my wife. But right now, all I'm asking is will you wear my ring as a symbol of our love and a promise to be committed to our relationship?"

She swallowed, trying to get words to come out of her mouth, but she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Instead, she held out her left hand.

Liam chuckled. "Is that a yes?"

She shook her head as she plucked the ring out of the box and slid it onto her ring finger, drawing him close for a kiss.

"That's a hell yeah, William Marshall Mann."

Marshall knocked on the bathroom door that Mary had disappeared behind over half an hour ago. "Mary? Are you ok? You've been in there for a while-"

Silence.

He ran a hand through his hair and continued to pace, wondering if between the two of them they were going to wear a path in the carpet before the year was out.

The sound of the door opening had him whirling around. Mary was leaning against the frame, her expression inscrutable, two pregnancy tests in hand.

"Well?"

Wordlessly, she held the sticks out to him and trying not to think about the fact that she had peed on both of them, he snatched them out of her hand and stared down at the results.

Pregnant

He whipped his gaze back up to see a slight grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Congratulations, Dad."

Marshall let out a war whoop as he threw the test sticks on the floor and wrapped her in his arms, twirling her around. Laughter bubbled out of her throat before a tiny ripple of nausea formed in her stomach.

"Put me down!" she commanded.

"Oh, right, sorry. Nausea."

She rolled her eyes. "Why is it that every time I'm pregnant, your immediate response is to spin me around and made me vomit?"

He invaded her personal space to cup her face. "You never vomited – and I spin you around because I'm so damn happy!" He planted a swift, wet kiss on her lips. "How are you feeling?"

"Beside dizzy?" she quipped, making her husband's grin deepen. "Still the same as before – but happy is in there too-" she looped her arms around his neck. "Happiness is something I never felt before I met you-"

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Now are you in the mood?"

She slapped his shoulder. "You're still thinking about sex?"

"When I'm with you, I'm always thinking about sex."

"Pervis!" she laughed, but she slowly rocked her hips into his, watching as his eyes darkened in desire. "It was how we celebrated my pregnancy the first time-"

"Hmm, yes, it was," he agreed. "And I don't think we should mess up a good thing, do you?"

"No, indeed," she whispered, crashing her lips into his.

Marshall awoke in the pre-dawn light to find Mary propped up next to him, her hand tracing lazy circles on his smooth chest. He lifted a hand and drew her face down to his, giving her a series of short, wet kisses before flopping back on the bed as she resumed her caresses.

"Good morning, my love. Have you been awake long?"

Mary knew what he was really asking: did you have any nightmares? They had become so common that she couldn't remember the last time she had slept all night without having one. Before Marshall and Will came back into her life, her sleep had been filled with nightmares of shadowy figures that were after her – trying to cause her bodily harm, or ones that were calling her name and she could never find no matter how hard she looked. These past few months, her dreams were filled with fragments of riding on a bus, arguing with her father in a diner, running out a door and into – nothing. That's when she woke up, gasping for breath and Marshall wrapping his arms around her in comfort.

But last night was different. After her positive test results, two rounds of love making, both of them had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. If Mary had had her usual nightmares about her father and the diner, she couldn't remember them. All she remembered was falling asleep in Marshall's arms, one of his hands low on her abdomen, rubbing the place on her belly where their unborn baby was growing. It was almost as if they had entered a time travel machine, and it was nearly twenty years ago – the first time she was pregnant with Will.

If only they could erase the intervening years and have a second chance to do them over. Maybe that's what they were getting – another chance to get it right this time. Another chance to start over and be a family from the beginning like they were supposed to have been with Will.

Will.

Mary's hand stopped its caress. What would he think about the baby? Would he be happy or embarrassed that his parents were still having sex at their age and as a result he was getting a sibling? More importantly, would he be angry and think that she was trying to replace him – trying to start over and raise a family with Marshall because of circumstances out of her control, she'd been cheated out of the first go round?

"Mary? Mary!"

She jerked out of her introspection and came back to the present to see Marshall staring at her in concern.

"Are you alright? You've been spaced out on me for a few minutes – didn't you sleep well?"

Mary pushed her concerns about Will to the side and leaned in, dropping a kiss on his lips. "I'm fine. In fact, I don't remember anything I dreamed last night – you must have worn me out."

He ignored the end of her statement and focused on the first part. "You didn't have any nightmares?"

"Not that I recall – I slept like a baby in your arms and woke up just a few minutes before you did. It's the best sleep I've gotten in a very long time."

"Since Will came to Miami?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, my sleeping problems predate Will's arrival."

"Really?"

"Yup. I haven't slept well for years – and then last night after we'd cleared the air with Will, and we found out I'm probably pregnant – I don't know – I feel like I've been reborn or something."

"Are you getting religious on me?"

She snorted. "I haven't set foot in a church since – God, I don't even remember when. Don't tell Sister Agnes – she'd be so disappointed in me."

"I'd like to meet her one day."

"I'll see what I can do to make that happen," she grinned.

"So, what did you find out about our long-lost sister?"

Mary swallowed her mint tea and tried to give Brandi a bland look. "Now, Squish, do you honestly think I'd abuse my government-"

"Save it." Brandi held up her hand. "You and I both know that you used your resources at work today and did – what does Marshall call it? Oh yes, a 'deep dive' on Skye."

Marshall's laughter floated out from the kitchen where he was loading the last of the dinner dishes. "She's got your number, Mer."

"What have you been teaching my sister while I've been gone?" she demanded as he joined them in the living room, sitting beside her on the couch, and dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

"Can we cover that later? What did you find out?" Brandi insisted, looking at the clock on the wall to see how much time they had before Skye showed up.

"Right." Mary sat up straight and focused on her baby sister. "Skye Shannon Thatcher was born on October 20, 1991, and her birth certificate lists Angelica Thatcher as her mother and James W. Shannon as her father."

"1991," Brandi repeated the year thoughtfully. "That was years after Dad left – I mean, not that I remember since I wasn't much older than Stevie when he left but from what you've told me – he left when you were- what, seven?"

Mary nodded. "Yeah, it was a few weeks after my birthday-"

"Which would have made it-" Marshall rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he calculated in his head. "!984?"

Both women nodded as the doorbell rang.

"That's my cue-" Marshall stood as Mary grabbed his hand.

"Don't be ridiculous. Stay. I'm going to have to repeat everything to you anyway and you know how I hate that-"

He glanced at Brandi, who laughed and told him to go answer the door. He tipped an imaginary hat in acknowledgement and went to do her bidding, as Brandi slipped into the vacant seat on the couch by Mary.

Mary reached over and squeezed Brandi's hand. "It's going to be okay, Squish."

Brandi turned and stared at her; worry written all over her face. "You don't know that – I mean, you always say that but you don't know – Mary, don't you have a feeling that Skye's arrival is going to change-"

She stopped talking as she heard voices in the hall and then Marshall reappeared with a woman by his side that looked so much like Mary, it took her breath away.

Skye stepped forward, her hands nervously twisting around the handles of a duffel bag. "Thank you so much for calling me back – to be honest, I wasn't sure you would."

Brandi's mouth fell open and swung her head back and forth between the two women. "I'm – I'm –"

Mary rolled her eyes as she stood up and extended her hand. "This is my sister Brandi – I don't remember if I mentioned her or if you said James told you about both of us-"

Skye beamed. "Oh yes! I knew about both of you – not from Dad – he didn't talk about his life before coming to Ohio – but after he left, and then when mom died-" she stopped and swallowed, the emotion bright in her eyes.

Brandi finally found her voice. "Dad left you too?"

Skye took a deep breath. "He did, a long time ago, actually."

Mary didn't know what to say to that, so she focused on Skye's other parent. "Your mother is dead?"

Brandi gasped at her abruptness and Marshall flinched slightly.

"Yeah, she died of colon cancer six months ago – I've been dealing with her estate and going through her stuff. And that's when I found some things that my dad left behind for me – and also some things that were addressed to his daughters 'Mary and Brandi Shannon'."

"Things like what?" Mary pressed her.

"Why don't we all sit down, hmm?" Marshall murmured. "Can I get you a drink, Skye? Tea, perhaps? Or I could make you some coffee if you prefer-"

"Oh, no, please don't go to any trouble on my account. Tea would be lovely, thank you."

"Coming right up." He shot Mary a warning look, silently telling her to behave as he moved into the kitchen.

She fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him and instead motioned for Skye to take a seat next to the couch. As Skye settled in the seat, Mary's eyes fell on the duffel bag for the first time, and she froze. It looked exactly like – but it couldn't be. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her.

"Mary?" Brandi whispered, tugging on her sister's sleeve, as Mary remained rooted to the spot, unmoving and unresponsive. "What is it?"

"Is she okay?" Skye asked, her voice rising in concern.

"MARSHALL!" Brandi yelled, her concern morphing to panic as Mary didn't flinch at the volume of her voice.

Marshall ran back into the room, his eyes scanning for danger. "What is it?"

Brandi motioned to Mary and he immediately stepped in front of her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "Mer? What is it?"

She trembled under his touch and then blinked, her eyes focusing on him. "The bag-" she whispered.

He glanced over his shoulder and spied the duffel in Skye's hands. "What about it?"

Mary licked her lips. "It looks exactly like James' old gym bag – but that's impossible, right?"

He placed an arm around her shoulders and together they faced Skye. She turned the bag so that they all could see the faded embossed letters: JWS.

Mary's knees buckled but Marshall caught her and sat down on the couch, drawing her into his lap.

"Steady, Sunshine. Don't go fainting on me again."

Her forehead rested on his neck for a moment before she sat up and squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. "I'm okay – it just caught me by surprise. The last time I saw that bag – James was carrying it out to the car. He told me to watch Squish – that he was going to the gym for a few hours and would be back soon." She shifted on his lap and turned to stare at Skye. "I never saw him again."

Skye frowned. "Why do you call him James?"

"Because he stopped being my father the day he walked out and left me to raise my baby sister."

"What about your mother? Wasn't she around?"

Mary snorted. "Let's just say she wasn't much help – she had her own demons to deal with."

"I'm sorry, perhaps I shouldn't have come," Skye apologized and got to her feet. "I can hear the bitterness in your voice and I know that this will only make things worse. I came looking for family and to see if you could help right an old wrong but-"

Marshall interrupted her. "What do you mean, an old wrong?"

Skye unzipped the bag and pulled out a stack of cash. "I mean this." She handed it across to Mary.

"1st National Bank of Abilene, TX 1970," Mary read the label aloud. She and Marshall locked eyes as understanding flowed between them.

Brandi frowned and shook her head. "I don't understand – what does old money from Texas have to do with our father?"

Mary's eyes closed in pain. "Squish, you do remember what I told you about what James did for a living – before he met and married mom?"

"You said he robbed –" Brandi's mouth fell open. "No, no, no! Are you saying this money is from a bank robbery that our dad was part of? How much is in that bag?"

"Now? About fifty thousand dollars," Skye spoke slowly, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. "But it once held more – much, much more."

"How do you know?" Marshall wondered aloud as he handed the stack back.

"Because of the newspaper clipping at the bottom of the bag about the bank robbery of the 1st National Bank of Abilene in July of 1970."